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Tuesday, June 30, 2009

This post is only for those individuals participating in the Jack Sh*t Kick-Ass Half-Ass Half-A-Pound Challenge. Please do not attempt to read this if you are not a part of the JSKAHAHAPC. I will be writing the rest of this message in the secret code that should have been part of your “Welcome to the JSKAHAHAPC” packet:

Easeplay endsay oryay urrentcay eightway-in information iavah maileay as oonsay as ossipleplay in… f*ck it, get your weigh-in info to me at JackSh.tGettinFit(AT)gmail(DOOT)com by end of business tomorrow.

JSKAHAHAPC Memorial Poem goes up Friday, with or without you.

Good luck, and may God have mercy on your soul (that doesn't really mean anything, but I heard it in a movie once and I've been itching to use it).

Sunday, June 28, 2009

I’ve packed my bags, loaded up my belongings and moved out of my crummy place in Obese City.That’s right, after my morning weigh-in, my Wii Fit scale has now officially quit calling me “obese” (and I have officially quit calling it a “dumb b*tch”)

When I began this journey, moving my little Wii dude out of that “obese” range seemed like a pie-in-the-sky goal, too far away to even realistically consider. But time and focused commitment make excellent carpool partners, and today I stand before you a new man. An “Overweight” man, to be sure, but a new man nonetheless.

So goodbye forever, Obese City.

It’s a terrible place to visit, but I sure wouldn’t want to live there.

JS: Our anniversary’s next week? Yeeeeees, it’s for a double-secret anniversary project I’m working on. How did you meet Jack Sh*t?Anita: Why are you referring to yourself in the third person? Bob Dole used to do that all the time; it’s very annoying.

JS: How did you meet… your husband?Anita: We went to high school together.

JS: Love at first sight?Anita: Hardly.

JS: Love at second sight?Anita: You’re getting warmer.

JS: How has Jack… how has I changed as he’s been on this weight loss journey.Anita: Well, he seems to spend an awful lot of time on the computer.

JS: Writing?Anita: Giggling.

JS: Maybe he’s in a good mood?Anita: Maybe he needs his meds checked. Look, I’ve got a lot of work to do. You can do your play interview with Pisa.

JS: Grrrrr… okay, Pisa. How was your dad changed over the past few months?Pisa: He’s still fat but he’s not as fat as he was when he was really fat.

JS: Pisa, what’s it like being the daughter of the “old-school gangsta of the weight loss blogging community”?Pisa: Moooom, Dad’s being weird.

I am not only going to talk the talk and walk the walk, but I’m also going to balk the balk and chalk the chalk.

My level of commitment makes a celibate monk look like Hugh Hefner after a Viagra sandwich.

If you threw a golf ball into a bottomless hole and measured when it hit the ground, THAT times two would be close to my level of dedication.

The Obama administration strongly considered me to head up the Government Task Force on Commitment, but decided my insanely high commitment level would overshadow the commitment committee’s work and quite possibly cause a financial crisis.

Each morning, I begin the day with a staring contest with my reflection.

I no longer use the words “ ,” “ ” or “ - .”

I am Evil-Knievel-jumping-the-Snake-River committed.

I am Houdini-handcuffed-and-thrown-down-Niagara-Falls committed.

I am more committed to losing weight than a TV weatherman is to his Doppler Radar.

Every morning, I ratchet up my commitment one more notch.

I am to commitment what bacon is to the BLT.

They say “never say never”, but what I say is “Never say ‘never say never” (I may have lost my point on that one…)

If I wrote a hip-hop song, it would be called “Committed 2 My B*tches,” because 1) it needs to have a naughty word in the title in order for it to be successful and 2) it’s a love story.

If commitment could be represented as a color, I would be crimson-violet with a streak of teal.

Suicide bombers write to me all the time and ask “D*mn, how can I be as committed as you, brother?”

They say the finest steel must go through the hottest fire. I have been through Hell’s pizza oven. Twice.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

...if you don't sign up for my inaugural weight loss challenge: Jack Sh*t’s Kick-Ass Half-Ass Half-A-Pound Challenge. We've already got a couple dozen folks who believe they have what it takes to lose one half pound over the next seven days. I'm still trying to get an even 1,000,000 participants, so hop on board the JSKAHAHAPC Express.

Remember:

All successful participants in this one-week adventure will have their names forever emblazoned onto the Jack Sh*t’s Kick-Ass Half-Ass Half-A-Pound Challenge Commemorative Poem.

A half-pound loss will put you one-half-pound closer to your overall weight-loss goal.

Email me your name, the name of your blog (if you have one) and your official weigh-in start weight before (or around) midnight tonight (or slightly after if you include a good, humorous excuse). No weights will be revealed to the general public (just to my co-workers at the office). Send your entries to JackSh.tGettinFit(AT)gmail(DOT)com.

This is your last chance to get in on the easiest, most rewarding weight loss challenge of the summer. The new half-pound-lighter you will thank you for it.

Although I felt I had legally (though half-assedly) fulfilled my meme obligation to Dina (who along with Tony tagged me with this sh*t), apparently it wasn’t enough for some people. Oh, it’s never enough for some people. You give and you give and you give… but some people can’t appreciate the simple beauty of a summer sunset or a well-crafted knock knock joke.

So here… here is my third and final attempt at answering a bunch of questions no one’s interested in hearing the answers to. I hope you’re happy. Really, I hope you’re happy. Really happy… like gumdrops and happy rainbow happy. I’m serious: I hope you’re happy. Seriously.

Rules:

1. Respond and rework; answer the questions on your blog, replace one question that you dislike with a question of your invention & add one more question of your own.

2. Tag eight other people

What is your current obsession? I have 7,200 miles of model railroad track throughout my house, but curiously… no model trains.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

When I see people with something on their blog that I don’t have… well, I get sh*tty.

Then I get whatever it is that they have that I don’t have.

Lately, I’ve been seeing folks throwing down the weight loss gauntlet to all their readers. It’s all weight loss challenge this, weight loss challenge that. It was just too much to bear.

So you are cordially invited to take part in my inaugural weight loss challenge: Jack Sh*t’s Kick-Ass Half-Ass Half-A-Pound Challenge. All participants will have one week in order to lose one-half pound.

I’m all about positive reinforcement, so I didn’t want to set the bar too high. I figured a half-pound loss would be a do-able achievement over seven days. What if you lose more than the half-pound? Whoop de doo, you’re awesome… but for this challenge, it won’t win you any fat-free brownie points. Super over-achievers, go find yourself another more challenging weight loss challenge.

Why should you participate, you ask? Two reasons.

All successful participants in this one-week adventure will have their names forever emblazoned onto the Jack Sh*t’s Kick-Ass Half-Ass Half-A-Pound Challenge Commemorative Poem.

I hate to say it, but you could really stand to lose another half a pound.

In order to be eligible for this program, you must email me your name, the name of your blog (if you have one) and your official weigh-in start weight before (or around) midnight tomorrow (or slightly after if you live someplace weird like Liverpool or Australia or Cleveland). Send your entries to JackSh.tGettinFit(AT)gmail(DOT)com.

If you are participating, you may proudly display the snazzy JSKAHAHAPC emblem on your own blog or web site denoting your pride and participation. You may also invite your own readers to come join the challenge, but please keep in mind that I have to work in every winner’s name into the commemorative poem and I’m a pretty lazy son-of-a-b*tch, so don't make it sound too extra-fantastic.

In seven days, I will demand your current weigh-in information (there’s a chance I may show up at your home to verify weigh-in information, so no cheating!), and those participants whose half-ass efforts have resulted in a kick-ass half-pound loss will join me (am I participating? Oh, hell yeah!) in the loser’s circle.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

I exercised for at least 45 minutes every day of this past week. I went out to eat only one time, and that was at a lunch spot that specializes in home-grown, home-cooked veggies. I had no celebrations, no close calls, no set-backs. Laser beams don’t have the focus I had last week.

Why? I’ll tell you exactly why: I don’t know.

Maybe I’m just in a groove, maybe I’m just forming new, healthier habits or maybe I’m simply enjoying the fact that I’m getting rid of more fat pants than a Casual Male XL during a red-tag sale.

Another reason for my smiley face this weekend is that I finally came up with a semi-wonderful response to that aggravating “Are you losing weight?” question (and it’s a question I’m having to deal with on a more regular basis as time goes on). A guy I haven’t seen in a few months stopped by my office the other day and asked “AYLW?”

I looked at him very somberly and replied deadpan: “Yeah, I’m on a hunger strike until they get this whole election deal in Iran worked out.” The beautiful thing about that response is that it’s got legs… you can customize it, personalize it, localize it… use whatever’s topical to keep from having to get into a discussion about something that I have no interest in talking about (but that I will blog about ‘til the cows come home).

As a few of you have so graciously reminded me, I’ve got some car accessorizing to do today. Not only is the world smelling sweeter these days, the view’s getting quite a bit better as well.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Jack and JillJill and JackWent to Donut Shack,To fetch a dozen crullers.Chocolate supremeAll loaded with crème,In all assorted colors.

Jill watched JackHave a heart attack,And went to dial 9-1-1.But before the call,She stopped in the hallTo finish her cinnamon bun.

Jack and JillWent to the hospital,Where he had an operation.After his brush with fate,Now they’re watching their weightAnd eat in moderation.

Georgie PorgieGeorgie Porgie, puddin' and pie,Eats all kinds of cheaties instead of his Wheaties.Was anybody shocked when he went to the doc,And diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes?

Humpty DumptyHumpty Dumpty weighed 328.Humpty Dumpty was way overweight.All the king's horses and all the king's menCouldn't pull Humpty away from his plate.

Humpty Dumpty joined Weight Watchers one day.Humpty Dumpty decided to stay.Now all the king’s horses and all the king’s menCouldn’t pull ol’ Humpty Dumpty away.

Humpty Dumpty, sticking to plan,Has lost 50 pounds since his diet began.All the king’s horses and all the king’s menCan’t believe Humpty is quite the same man.

Goosey Goosey GooseGoosey Goosey Goose, always making some excuse.“I’m too tired, I’m too sore, I can’t work out anymore.I’ve got houseguests, I’ve got a job, my kids are underfoot.”And then doesn’t understand it when all the pounds stay put.

Froggy Went A-Countin’Froggy went a-countin’And he did diet (Uh-hmm, Uh-hmm)Froggy went a-countin’And he did diet (Uh-hmm, Uh-hmm)Froggy went a-countin’ and he did dietToo many points and he wouldn’t try it.Froggy went a-countin’And he did diet (Uh-hmm, Uh-hmm)

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

We all have our bad days on this arduous weight loss journey. Our nothing-goes-right, everybody-sucks, I-hate-my-life days when we’d just like to curl up someplace and die. Actually, we’d prefer if everybody else would just curl up and die, preferably quietly yet in a bitter, painful manner. My Grandpa Noah always called this being a “Wally Whinybritches.”

How can we dig ourselves out of this rut and embrace all of life’s rich goodness and endless possibilities? How can we infuse ourselves with warm positive vibes and fresh constructive energy? I’m glad you asked…

Make friends with that nice old lady neighbor and, while chatting with her, mentally calculate the difference between your life expectancy and hers.

Go to Starbucks and order a Grande extra hot half-caff/half-decaff with extra foam, split shot with a half squirt of sugar-free vanilla and a half squirt of sugar-free cinnamon, a half packet of Splenda in a Venti cup with extra whipped cream with chocolate and caramel sauce drizzled on top. Pay with pennies.

Give a homeless person a backrub.

Write a letter to someone you’ve not heard from in a while, and ask where’s that $50 they owe you.

Give yourself permission to shoplift something nice for yourself.

Write down all the things that bother you on a list, then take a handgun and shoot the list until there’s nothing left but burnt, tattered little slips of paper.

Make it a “Do Something Nice for Me” Day, and when I say “me,” I’m literally referring to myself. Come to my house and do something nice for me (preferably laundry).

Splurge for a background check on your best friend.

Imagine that you are breathing in happiness and farting out rainbows.

Show a child how to do something (like mow the lawn).

Make a list of things you’d like to accomplish over the week, then get drunk and laugh hysterically about the list.

Try a daily affirmation, such as “Affirmations aren’t really as stupid and silly as I think they are.”

Realize that the world has seen bigger problems that yours; not much bigger, mind you, but bigger.

Be your own cheering section (cheerleading outfit required).

Ask yourself "What can I do now to be more happy?" and then do that thing.

If all else fails, remember that there are kids out there in the hospital with terminal illnesses. You’ve got it much better off than they do. (Note to kids out there in the hospital with terminal illnesses: if you’re not planning to use your Make-A-Wish wish, I’ve always wanted to drive one of those big 18-wheelers. 10-4 good buddy...I'm westbound and down. Wooooooooo.)

Sunday, June 14, 2009

After last week’s unsatisfactory gain, I learned some important lessons:

Don’t order the Salt-Slathered Salty Veggie Fajitas with Extra Salt the night before a weigh-in

“Ah, what the hell?” are the four worst words you can utter in a restaurant setting

Even though there’s an ever-so slight chill in my living room in the early morning, there’s no need to weigh in wearing a heavy winter parka and fur boots

I really consider this week’s rocking of the scale a two-week victory, because I was rock-solid for the vast majority of the weight-gain week and super rock-solid the following week. Plus, I got a haircut, which was just enough to put me over the top.

There’s nothing easy about this journey we’re all undertaking, but when you do right and you see results, there’s nothing more satisfying.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

...person who won’t budge for exercise, won’t exorcize bulge....person who eat too much wind up being belly sorry....person who do good dieting is like spoiled child, soon get too big for britches....person who eat too much cake get just desserts at weigh-in....person who can’t stay in weight loss game forfeit future happiness....person who massage diet too much won’t get happy ending on scale....person who puts off diet plans puts on fat pants....person who runs miles soon smiles....person with small willpower soon have XXL wardrobe....person who eat too much fried food not have good relationship with the Lard....person who read too much Jack Sh*t get blogged down in stupidity.

When some nice lady at POM Wonderful offered to send me–for free—some pomegranate juice and assorted pomma-propaganda about its “so-called” health benefits, I was a wee bit skeptical.

I don’t intend to use this space as a means for companies to promote their various goods and services. I don’t want any apparel companies sending me any shirts (XXL) or running shoes (size 13). Don’t send me your fancy Wii games or exotic snack products (email me for address)… and expect a glowing review. Don’t be influenced by the fact that the POM Wonderful people sent me some samples and I concluded, without any undue influence from them, that pomegranate juice is the world’s most perfect weight loss drink.

Besides its awe-inspiring nutritional benefits, here’re some of my other findings…

When Spanish Conquistador Hernando “Corky” Cortez landed in Mexico in 1519, he gave a startling order: “Burn the ships.” Some historians argue that he just didn’t want to pay the docking fees at the marina, but most have come to the conclusion that he was so committed to his mission that he didn’t want to allow his men (or himself) the option of returning to Spain... the option of failure.

I’ve been taking a “burn-the-ships” approach with many aspects of my current weight loss campaign. I’m getting rid of excuses that get in my path, and I’m chasing away temptations that I know are just too difficult for me to resist.

I used to buy snacks for my daughters that, more often than not, I would wind up munching on while watching a ball game on TV.

Burn the chips.

The fridge by my desk at the office was once stacked and packed with sodas.

Burn the cokes.

I found myself eating dessert right before bedtime.

Burn the treats.

All too often, I was making poor choices at restaurants.

Burn the menus.

None of us are made of steel. We can’t resist temptation indefinitely. What we can do is take away as many of the hurdles and enticements that get in the way of our weight loss success as we possibly can.

When I decided to stop drinking coffee a couple of weeks ago, there was an almost-full container of Almond Toffee coffee creamer in the fridge. I left it in there a couple of days, but I know the way my mind works: “Well, that stuff’s just going to go to waste if I don’t drink it. Maybe a cup of coffee just the weekends… that’d be all right.”

When you start making deals with yourself over food, it’s time to burn the ships.

Glug, glug, glug… down the drain went the coffee crap.

Family won’t like it if you quit buying ice cream? I’ve got news for you: they’ll get over it. My daughters were livid when I quit bringing home their favorite chips. Tough t*tty, said Jack Sh*tty. Them boats have been torched.

And the excuses. Maybe more important than the temptations, you’ve got to take away the excuses that make taking care of yourself less of a priority than taking care of all the other areas of your existence, all the other duties and responsibilities that fill your days. This is your life, and it’s high time that you give yourself the opportunity to be the person you want to be, that you know deep down you’re on the road to becoming.

Burn the ships. Get rid of anything and everything that could possibly cause you to fail. Burn the ships. Take every excuse off the table, and leave every cop-out and justification out back with the trash. Leave yourself no choice but to succeed… and don’t be surprised when that’s just what you do.

Against all odds, Cortez’s men conquered the Aztecs and were victorious where others had been unsuccessful for six centuries.

Your ideals are well within your reach. Your weight loss goals? Not so much.

Your infinite capacity for patience with your diet will be rewarded in an infinite amount of time.

Your life will get more and more exciting. Hint: This isn’t a good fortune.

Your love of life is only exceeded by your love of bacon.

Avoid taking unnecessary risks… and eating unnecessary chips.

You are at a crossroads. On one side is serenity and inner peace. On the other side is a strip mall with a Cinnabon.

If you don't have time to live your life now, when will you?

Thanks (I think) to Kelly at Happy Texans for inspiring this particular round of nonsense. Oh, and thanks to Kelly and the rest of you losers (I mean that in the "weight loss" sense) that made me get on the scale and see that I'd gained .8 lbs. after my salt-packed weekend.

Instead of my usual weekend sacred service (the Sunday morning weigh-in), I spent the weekend at my niece’s wedding four hours away. It wasn’t the train-wreck it could have been, but it was bad enough that I’m skipping my weekly hop-on-the-scale this week. Why? Call me Jack S*lt.

Snacked on semi-healthy (but salty) chips and pretzels on the car ride, didn’t drink enough aqua (even though I brought a big jug), nibbled a little at the reception, then went out with entire family to a Mexican place they all love (but I think is kind of mediocre). Broke down and ordered a beer, then had a little “What the hell?” moment with the greasy chips and salsa.

I wish Mexican food in this country resembled, oh I don’t know, food in Mexico. Every time we travel south of the border, we encounter all kinds of fresh and exotic fare, and rarely is any of it smothered in cheese and served with prison-style glob of beans. I split an order of extra-salty veggie fajitas with my wife Anita, and somewhere along the way had another beer. I was okay with the beer because they weren’t huge glasses and, when I start, I’m capable of putting away a lot of beer.

We went down to the fitness area later that night, while my mother and my daughter Pisa checked out the pool. I farted around on some of the equipment, but my heart (and stomach) just wasn’t into it.

Next morning, I made better choices at the complimentary breakfast buffet (featuring make-your-own-waffle station). I had oatmeal with sliced banana, juice and an apple. Snacked a little more on the drive home (did not plan well for car trip) and got back on track once I returned home. Ate better and exercised for couple of hours in the afternoon. Still, I can feel all that water weight clinging to me like saran wrap.

On the drive home, I was doing a bit of thinking about celebrations and how they so often knock us off skew with our weight loss plans. You tell yourself it’s okay because it’s a special occasion, and then a couple of nights later an old friend is visiting… or it’s a co-worker's birthday… or a new restaurant opened that everyone’s raving about… or they put Milky Ways in the vending machine. There’s always something to celebrate.

I don’t feel too bad about how I did this weekend… but I don’t necessarily feel like weighing in either.

Can’t do a wedding post without working in my Grandpa Noah Sh*t’s old saying: “Marriage is a mental state… it’s an institution. I guess what I’m trying to say is that marriage is a mental institution.”

Saturday, June 6, 2009

I realize that I’m fighting a tidal wave of popularity by ranting against 100-calorie packs. Food manufacturers and grocery stores seem to be doubling down on them–don’t be surprised to see a 100-calorie snack aisle in your neighborhood store any day now. But besides offering a no-brainer approach to portion control, there’s not much good you can say about these craptacular snacks. Here’s a hundred reasons to leave ‘em on the store shelves…

Since this is supposedly a weight loss blog, I should probably include some tidbits on what I’m eating, what workouts I’m doing and what feelings I’m feeling. Okay, here goes…

I’m eating food.

I’m doing workouts.

I’m feeling fine.

More specifics? C’mon, this is the place you come for sh*ts and grins, not recipes and workout schedules. Okay, okay… just this once, more specifics.

I’m eating regular foods, just less of them than my brain thinks my body actually needs. I’ve tried to slow down my eating, and I’ve tried to listen to my body tell me when it’s full. It’s difficult, because it talks like this: “Okay, that’s enough for now. Thank you very much.” I’m trying not to eat out so much because I know I can make better choices at home. I’m trying to incorporate more fruits and veggies, and I’m drinking more water (no diet sodas or coffee, for the time being). I’m doing well, because I’m hungrier for a life-change than a bowl of chips.

I’m working out, in some form or fashion, every day of the week. I don’t schedule “off days” because life generally has a way of forcing an off-day on you every so often. Some days I don’t wanna get my sweat on, but I know the weight won’t come off without the “exercise more” part of the equation. The body can adjust to less food; it has no defense for you burning calories.

I’m feeling fine. Really. I think I’m through the worst of the “crazy thinking” that led me to Obese City. And I give a lot of credit to these blogs… mine and all the other interesting voices I follow. Everyone’s got their own style, their own secrets for getting through the day, their own stories, both boring and fascinating. As for me, I may not always have something important to say, but I find I always have something to say.

I have so many great people providing me support along the way that I forget one of the main reasons I’m writing this blog: to serve as a reminder of all the hard work I'm putting in, all the hours of sweat and dedication I'm putting myself through and all those bitter battles with my pesky inner demons that I'm at least winning my fair share. I want to remember what I was like before (miserable), and just what it took to get me on the road back to where I belong (healthy, happy, wise… well, two out of three ain’t bad).

It’s funny (and not the ha-ha funny you came here for, I’m sorry to say), but, in all kinds of ways, I expect to be a bigger person when I finish this journey than when I began it.

Here’s to wise choices, good friends and (at least) a little love from the scale this week.

KookabloggerKookablogger sits at the old oak desk,Eating up foods to make him grotesque.Stop Kookablogger, stop Kookablogger.If you don’t stop, you’ll be a d*mn mess.How many days ‘til he changes his ways?[count until someone messes up]

Not-So-Tiny TimI knew a big, fat Plumpy,His name was “Tiny” Tim.He got stuck in his bathtub, and things were looking grim.He drank all kinds of soda, he ate all kinds of sh*t,Finally he called in assistance to try and help him quit.In came the doctor, (jumper jumps in)In came the nurse, (second jumper jumps in)In came the lady with Alli in her purse (third jumper jumps in)Oily discharge on the doctor (jumper jumps out)Oily discharge on the nurse (second jumper jumps out)Oily discharge on the lady with the Alli in her purse (third jumper jumps out)

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About Me

Come and listen to a story 'bout a man named Jack,
Who never quit eating ‘cept to stop and have a snack.
Then one day he was standing on his scale,
And he realized he’d really let his body go to hell.
(Obesity that is, back fat, Texas toast)
Well the first thing you know old Jack he made a vow,
He’d ratchet up the exercise and slow down on the chow.
He wanted to get his weight back to where it oughta be,
So he loaded up his stuff and he moved to Bloggery.
(Google Blogger that is, writing posts, makin’ jokes)
Well now it's time to say hello to Jack and all his sh*t
As he chronicles his adventures on his journey to get fit.
You're all invited back each day to this locality,
To have a heaping helping of health and hilarity.
(Jack Sh*t, Gettin’ Fit, that is.)
Y'all come back now, ya hear?